I Used to Rule the World
by Preu
Summary: A comprehensive history of Ancient Rome from the founding of the city to the abdication of the last Western emperor. Many OCs are used to fill in for key players. Strong language used.
1. Etruria and Me

I Used to Rule the World: Story of Ancient Rome

Chapter 1: Etruria and Me

Part I:

Northern Italy was kind to Etruria. The Apennines brought plenty of rain to the region by stopping the clouds moving east. The fertile soil nurtured the plants while the radiant sun nourished them.

It was on such a bright day when Etruria, a stately young woman, was out gathering herbs. Her brown locks of hair was tied back and pinned to keep it from sweeping into her face. They were braided and adorned with colorful ribbons, looking out of place for a rustic farmer girl like her. Her eyes, however, spoke experience of the world. Etruria had seen much since its start and being the sharp girl she was, Etruria learned from what happened.

Moving through the forest quietly, Etruria's brown eyes scanned the surroundings. She spotted the Tiber River in the distance, its flow glinting in the afternoon sun. The, a sharp-bladed leaf of an herb caught her attention and she moved to pick it, adding it to the woven basket she carried with one hand.

Something fumbling through the foliage attracted her attention, and Etruria turned. She was surprised to see a young brown haired boy tumble out of the bushes, dragging a log. Surprised, she kept watching him struggle with his load before he noticed that she was there.

"Oy, just who do you think you are looking at me like that?" the boy shouted, his amber eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Etruria was a bit annoyed with his behavior. Being bigger and older than him, she looked at him square in the eye without quailing. "Excuse me, but who do you think you are?" she retorted.

Swelling up his thin chest, the boy touted, "I am Rome!"

Rome? When had she heard of that place? Could it be that little upstart tribe down in Latium? Etruria looked at Rome, her eyes contemplating.

"I'm Etruria," she replied simply. She glanced pointedly at the log that Rome was toting. "What are you doing with that?"

"I'm building my city! We need these logs to support the buildings since it's close to the river…" Rome sighed. Some of his bravado and luster was gone now. Cocking his head towards the river, he shook his head. "Every time we build something, it always sinks into the ground. It's too swampy, but that's where the gods decreed where my people should build their city."

The young woman pitied the boy. "Hm. Swampy land? I know a solution, Rome," she answered, sympathetically. "My cities were built on land like yours, but we drained it first. That provides some firm ground for buildings to be sturdy upon. I can help you get started."

Unknown to her, this day was a momentous day in history. Rome would not only take the technology of draining swamps from his neighbor, but also take their first form of writing from them. Etruscan engineering skills would also be applied to future Roman projects as well. With Etruria having superior technology and infrastructure than Rome, Etruscan Kings soon reigned over Rome. However, some Romans were rather disgruntled by the foreign leadership.

Part II:

Like the sun sets, every great nation must fall. After suffering a couple of defeats against other Italian tribes and Ancient Greece in Sicily, Etruria's leadership had weakened in Rome. It was prime time for revolution.

At the time which the sun sets, Rome, now a teenager, leaned against a pillar in the forum. He was older now and a bit wiser at least. His eyes were on the residence of Lucius Tarquinus Superbus in the distance. Already, a rough and ready rabble gathered behind him, enraged at the rape of Lucretia. They were chafing under the yoke of Etruscan dominance.

Lucius Junius Brutus stood behind him, shaking his head. "Rome, sir. Lucretia, wife of Collatinus, has committed suicide out of shame. Collatinus promised to usurp the kings for her…" he reported, bowing his head. "It's time."

"Etruria, it's time for us to lead ourselves," Rome commented. He nodded his head curtly at Brutus and proceeded to strap on a bronze helmet. The cheek flaps that protected the sides of his head framed his face, no longer boyish but hardened in the fires of war. The shadows from the setting sun cast shadows on his face, giving him a toughened look. He gathered his cloak about him, his hand resting on the sword.

Although Rome considered Etruria his older sister of sorts, he still didn't want her dominating her people anymore. Like siblings, they often had arguments, which continued as Rome grew older. With the Etrsucan prince raping a Roman woman, that was certainly the last straw the Romans would take from King Tarqiun, who scorned their culture.

"Enim populi Romanum!" Rome shouted and whipped the blade out of the scabbard. He pointed it at the sword, and the disgruntled noblemen who had gathered to usurp the king charged the castle with their militia.

Fire lit up the night sky as the rabble engaged the Etruscan guards. Some of them, Roman born and bred, turned upon their employers, hacking down Etruscans whenever they were seen. Blood splattered the stately halls of the villa, and for that night, it was a slaughterhouse, a charnel of suppressed hate.

"Brutus! Collatinus! Rein the men in! We are not here to slaughter, but to drive them out!" Rome roared. The massacre sickened him for he did not advocate for wanton slaughter! However, the hate that erupted from the Roman populace was too great for them to embrace their famed discipline.

"Rome! What is this?"

The accusation brought him around, facing a blood-drenched Etruria. Those who said that women couldn't fight were always rebuked by Rome, as Etruria was almost as good, if not better, than him. She was blocking the passageway towards the king's chamber, where, as Rome could see, Tarquin and his family were making use of the time to escape.

"My people don't need your help anymore, Etruria," Rome answered steadily. His troops parted ways for him to pass through them and towards the other nation. He sheathed his sword, showing that he meant her no harm and did not wish to fight.

Etruria stiffened, using her land to push her hair back from her eyes. "This could've been peaceful. There was no need for this," she commented bitterly, her brown gaze on the bloodied, crumpled body of a young servant girl.

"Your prince raped one of our women. Your king laughs at our customs," he retorted hotly, moving forward a bit aggressively. Who said there was no need for this? The Etruscans had it coming all along. "Your violence brought upon ours."

"I'm sorry, Rome," she replied simply. She let out a yell in the Etruscan language, so alien from the Indo-European tongue that Latin was. Immediately, what remaining loyal palace guards surrounded her with the living Etruscans and they exited the villa after the king.

Turning to his own people, Rome had a slight smile on his face, a smile of bitterness at the loss of a friend and of triumph at the independence of his people. "This is the twilight of the old monarchy, and the start of a new Republic!" he declared, raising his sword high into the air.

With the end of one power was the dawn of another.


	2. Rome vs Carthage

I Used to Rule the World: Story of Ancient Rome

**Chapter 2:** Rome vs. Carthage – 1st Punic War and Part of the Second

* * *

><p><strong>The First Punic War:<strong>

It was inevitable that the two great superpowers of the Mediterranean would clash. Son of Phoenicia, Carthage ruled over most of the Western Sea with holdings in Spain and all of North Africa while Rome had a consolidated base of his land empire in all of the Italian Peninsula with his allies and whatnot. The first spark into the tinder that was the Punic Wars was the Sicilian city of Messana.

Carthage was aboard his ship, the vanguard of his famous fleet. His curly brown hair waved in the sea breeze as his eyes scanned the island of Sicily ahead. Not much older than Rome, he was well muscled with handsome Semitic features that told of his Phoenician ancestry. Critical green eyes analyzed his surroundings with the precision of a well-used machine.

Picking out the straits with them, he turned to the captain, shrugging. "Messana doesn't look like much fun to fight. Rome can't even touch us out on the ocean," he commented drily. He was stating that from the fact that Carthage already had beaten Rome a couple of times when the Italians had launched their little-used navy into battle.

The captain, a large well-muscled man named Hamilcar, nodded. "The fleet is the pride of Carthage. No one can beat us on the waters. These Romans are fools to do so," he laughed.

There was an alarm from the look-out and Carthage turned. A smirk graced his face. "Looks like Rome is coming at us again. Let's see what they've brought to play with this time," he grinned, his sneer impudent. "Ram them. I want all their ships sunk this time, Carthaginians!"

With white sails taut against the wind, the Carthaginian ships cut through the water towards the slower, sluggish Roman fleet. It seemed that the battle was quite one-sided.

"They're coming, sir Rome," the Roman captain whispered to him.

Rome yawned and stood up, flattening out his tunic on his front. He may have little experience on the sea, but he was very practical and methodical. If he couldn't beat the Carthaginian ships since Romans were used to land-based fights, he had to make the naval battles land-based. Certainly, Rome did have a surprise for Carthage. That was why he still wore the light bronze armor of a Roman legionary with the helmet and breast plate.

The shattering of timber alerted him that the two fleets had engaged. Rome leapt onto the gangplank just in time to see Carthage's flagship slam into his own vessel. Knocked down from the force of the attack, his sword was sent skidding from his hand.

Scrambling on all fours, he grabbed his blade again and whipped around, ready to attack. "The corvus, Romans!" Rome roared.

There was a mighty winching sound and groan as the huge spike, the corvus, slammed into the Carthaginian ship's deck. Rome grinned as now the two ships were locked together with the bridge way of the corvus spanning across the water. They could no longer move independently.

Leaping onto the gangplank that connected the two ships, Rome cut down a Carthaginian sailor that jumped at him, slashing wildly with his sword. He turned, only to meet the punishing blades of Carthage.

"Looks like you've got a new trick in your book, whelp!" Carthage snarled. Muscles taut, he arced his sword at Rome's head, who was not quick enough to dodge it.

The falcata of Carthage slammed into the side guard, sending the younger nation to the ground. It was a powerful and swift weapon, able to hit with the force of the axe and still have the agility and keenness of a sword due to its curved design.

Blood trickled down his brow from where the falcate had hit him. Rome barely managed to block the next attack with his gladius. The blow reverberated through his arm, sending bolts of pain up the limb. However, Rome kicked out with his leg, tripping Carthage.

Rome afforded a quick look around at the progression of the fight. Already, his legions were swarming onto the Carthaginian ships and making short work of the sailors with their new corvus. He managed a grin on his face before turning back to his enemy, his eyes narrowed and blade raised. "It's over, Carthage," he growled, wiping blood from his eye. "Your ships will not save you now." He couldn't help but add a victorious smirk to his bruised face.

"I will never surrender," Carthage declared, swallowing back his bile, his revulsion for Rome. His green eyes glittered, hard as malachite. He raised his falcata again, ready for more action.

His own blade raised, Rome ordered his troops to surround the Phoenician. "You'll learn to bow to me," he grounded out, his voice hard and harsh. His rival did nothing as Rome's foot slammed him onto the hard wooden deck. Splinters dug into his cheek as Rome taunted him. "Like right now."

"Rein back around to Messana. We'll have a hell of a time with these Carthaginians. Senatus Populusque Romanus!" he ordered before leaving his men to handle Carthage.

* * *

><p>In the triumph back at Rome, the defeat of Carthage was celebrated in time honored fashion. Roman legions paraded through the Via Appia with their loot while the victorious generals waved to the cheering crowd, screaming and yelling with joy. Carthage, meanwhile, was bound up in chains and marched immediately through to the jeers of the common people and brought to Rome's villa.<p>

At the sight of Carthage, Rome's face hardened a bit. His amber eyes took in the stooped form, bent over by the weight of the iron chains that held him close to the ground. The fact that Carthage was on his feet irked him.

"Kneel," Rome ordered. He found his hand gripping the eagle standard, the powerful talisman of the Roman army.

"I only kneel to those who deserved to be kneeled to," Carthage replied simply, shaking his head. His green eyes were defiant as they bore into Rome's.

Suddenly, Rome's arms heaved and swept the standard across Carthage's head, the iron eagle smashing painfully into the side of his head. With that, the Republic advanced and kept his rival's face down to the ground with his foot, forcing him into a kneeling position. Carthage had to be thoroughly beaten and shown who the top nation of the Mediterranean was.

"Good, now you are kneeling," Rome smiled. A feeling came over him, warming him up. He turned to the other soldiers and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The thick wooden doors slammed shut behind the tramping of their leather boots.

Carthage's apathy to the situation enraged him and Rome grabbed a handful of the Phoenician's hair, lifting his head up so that his tawny eyes met Carthage's emerald ones. "Hand over Sicily. And your gold. Otherwise, I'll take my new navy to your capital and sack it."

There was no other option but for him to agree. Carthage's head dipped slightly, nodding at Rome.

"Oh, and the next time we fight, it won't just be a light slap to the cheek if you lose," Rome warned, his voice dangerous. He knew it wouldn't be the last time he would fight with Carthage and it wouldn't be as easy as the first time.

* * *

><p><strong>Second Punic War:<strong>

"Saguntum's with us, but Macedonia joined the fight with Carthage," Rome spat on the ground. He kicked a clod of dirt with his iron shod sandals, annoyed. "What can Saguntum do for us? At least the Macedonians have an army, but what does Saguntum have?"

Gaius Terentius Varro shook his head a bit. "Rome has always had an invincible army. We have no need of Saguntum's aid if Carthage keeps it land-based…"

Suddenly, the two men's conversations were interrupted by a messenger, who stormed into the hall. He was ragged, and Rome could tell that he had rushed to get here.

"Hannibal Barca! He has arrived in Italy somehow with war elephants and an army at his back!" he announced hurriedly. "The northern allies stood no chance against him, so they joined him!"

Rome's fist clenched as the news hit him. Foolish of Carthage to take the battle to Italy, but it was smart. To see such an enemy of Rome arrive in the peninsula was a nuisance. The allies whom Rome had kept for so long could be defecting especially if they were disgruntled by his rule. As they said, the enemy of my enemy is my friend…

"Where are they at the moment?" Rome asked the messenger, his gaze critical. The legions had to move out now to counter this threat.

The messenger shook his head. "Cannae. They're very close to us, sir…"

"Varro, rally the army. We will crush these Carthaginian rebels once and for all," Rome sighed. Bundling his toga tighter in his arms, the young man stalked off, a mood of rage hanging about him.

The noon sun shone down upon the legions marching through the Italian countryside. Although it was bright, the visors of the legions' helmets shaded their eyes, allowing them normal sight. It was hot and stifling in the August heat of the Mediterranean climate, especially since they were marching with full packs, and the cool breeze was a welcomed help to wipe the sweat off their foreheads.

In the distance, Rome could see smoke coming from burning villages. The stench of burned flesh and wood was heavy in the air. His horse shied at the smell, its eyes wide with fear. It bucked slightly, the huge animal attempting to turn around.

"Whoa, there," Rome mumbled, stroking his mount's erect ears. It did little to calm the equine animal, who knickered with fear. It was as if it could sense bad luck in the distance. "Varro, send some scouts up ahead to check on their position."

A couple of men were dispatched. Rome waited in anticipation for them to come back. He listened eagerly to their report.

"Consul, it looks like they are abandoning the town. They probably have seen us coming for them," the man replied, keeping his eyes modestly lowered. "Their numbers are smaller than ours, too. It should be an easier victory."

Immediately, Rome perked up, his tawny eyes eager. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's show these spineless Carthaginians what Rome has in store for them!" He urged his mount onward, rallying up the legions.

As his horse crested the hill, Rome could see that Carthage was indeed retreating. His central regiments were pulling back along with the flanks. Turning back to his army, the tall young man shouted, "Send them in!"

With their shields locked and spears protruding, the Roman legion marched their way across the terrain, an impenetrable fortress of iron. They were spread in long rows, backed up by cavalry that rode behind them.

A smirk graced Rome's features. It looked like an easy battle.

* * *

><p>Gisgo, a Carthaginian officer, watched the Roman advance. He was young and inexperienced in this war. Fear throbbed in his veins as the legendary army marched, their gear and equipment clattering in the humid and heavy air.<p>

"I noticed that there are so many of them, General Barca! Surely…surely your plan will not work," he gulped, his throat bobbing with fear.

Carthage turned to the younger man, a smile on his face. He looked older and more worn than in his days of the first Punic War. A terrible scar marred his handsome features, a reminder of Rome's abuse. However, what had not changed were the determined green eyes and the proud tilt to his chin.

"Hannibal, Carthage can count on you to make us win," he commented, turning to Gisgo.

Hannibal nodded, his bearded face grim. "We cannot count on victory so early. And…another thing that has escaped your notice, Gisgo, is even more amazing—that although there are so many of them, there is not one among them called Gisgo!"

Laughing a bit, Carthage patted Hannibal's back. "Without a Gisgo, they surely cannot win. You are one of our top officers," the man added, beaming a smile.

The young officer flushed with embarrassment. He was deserving of the praise, but he was very modest about his past accomplishments. "If you may dismiss me, I will go to lead the center position, sirs," he asked, bowing hastily. He slung his leg over the horse and rode away toward his command.

"This plan of yours may very well work, Hannibal," Carthage commented. He fit his helmet upon his head snugly before drawing his sword. Already, the Roman legions had crashed into the center position, which was falling backwards. Seeing this spurred the Italians to greater fervor; they had victory in their grasp.

What was so ingenious was that Hannibal had ordered the flanks to maintain their position. Though thinly spread out, the Romans were too concentrated on breaking the middle than watching their sides. Like a great amoeba, the Carthaginian army surrounded the legion with its arms. There was only nothing to do now but slaughter.

* * *

><p>Rome was in the thick of his troops when all hell broke loose. Already, the tall Republic had lost his sword and his horse and had sustained heavy cuts from his adversaries. With blood trickling down his face, he called to what little soldiers that had survived the massacre in a hoarse voice, his throat dry with dirt and dust.<p>

"Romans! Gather to me! We must break free of their circle!" he roared aloud. He deflected a blow given by a Carthaginian soldier. A nearby Roman used a pilum to stab the enemy, spearing him like a fish.

Like moths to light, the Romans gathered around their leader. Reassembling some remnant of Rome discipline, they locked their shields together, charging through the Carthaginians like a tank. The resistance was brutal, and Rome lost many men to the Phoenician warriors. A trumpeting sound in the distance alerted them of the worse. Hannibal was bringing his war elephants in.

"Senatus Populusque Romanus!" Rome yelled aloud his warcry, urging his men to greater lengths. At last they finally broke through, much to the dismay of the Carthaginians, who wanted to cut them down and defeat them.

Rome managed a hurried glance over his soldier and it confirmed that they were indeed quite safe. The Carthaginians had abandoned the small pocket of soldiers to eradicate the remainder of the poor souls stuck in their killings fields.

Gritting his teeth, he turned away from the scene. The ring of metal against metal was loud in the air permeated through with a dusty haze of kicked up loam. The area was rank with the dread feeling of the death which hovered over it like a raven on a carcass. The Roman legions were fighting with the bravery of doomed souls.

"Forgive me, Jupiter," Rome mumbled, feeling tears cut a bright trail through the muck on his cheeks.


End file.
